Sense and Solitude

Making sense of what has transpired is like 

Counting drops of liquid in a cup

Life comes and goes, ebbs and flows

I ascribe meaning on top of all of it

And these stories often hinder my truth

What is it I see when I open my eyes?

What is it I see when I close them?

Closing them is key 

Scary as it may be

Sitting with the muck I see myself

an actor with roles in stories and events

makeup and costumes and automatic lines

retorts and expressions memorized, leading me

to more of the same, an endless game

Staying with it, I ride the breath to

a new horizon where True Nature rests

and I see I can come home to myself

Whenever I wish, right here in this 

breath and in this moment

I make a choice to put down attachments

and allow ideas and limiting beliefs to rest

no, this is not some sort of existential test

rather, a lovely invitation to be lovely

and to see the lovely and in the lovely

Scanning the senses with gleeful curiosity 

I hear birds chatter and find melody that delights

I see the clouds' quick moves and feel hopefulness for change

I feel wind like a cosmic breath and know I am connected

I smell trees nutty freshness and sense timeless rooting

I taste the fruit with new lips and miracles abound 

There is so much more, always happening

I can continue to sink deeper into all of it

I will commit to understanding beyond 

that which my intellect can have power over

So that I may evolve and grow new wisdom 

And peace and gratitude will flow creating

space for power between, uplifting the unseen

I will sit in solitude and know